Climbing Downhill
by ro-lal
Summary: "You dumbass," Clint called from the couch. "If it's top secret you're not supposed to look."


I hereby apologize in advance for any undue bastardization of either fandom. I seriously. Ugh. I had to sacrifice bits from both worlds, but mostly from the Homestuck one because as it turns out? Actually writing how SBURB happens is nigh impossible. So here. Enjoy, I guess.

**8**

This wasn't meant to happen. Just remember that, okay? THIS WASN'T SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN.

It was stupid of SHIELD, really, to use such cliché methods to keep their files secure. It wasn't as if slapping the words TOP SECRET in giant red letters would really stop anyone. If anything, this telling move would make a body more curious. They'd be casually hacking into SHIELF databases while waiting for the fabrication units to finish and see the big blocky letters and go, "oooh, what're they hiding from me today?" Any innocent digital pedestrian would be curious they might even feel a need to do some high tech investigation, y'know, making sure it wasn't important. Obviously this action would be against the rules but keeping secrets is cheating.

And anyway, SHIELD could pout all they wanted; it wasn't as if they could stop the anonymous individual. They would try, though. They would even point fingers (how dare!). And if they were feeling really nasty they'd put a name to this individual. They'd tell him off and make mistake number two: telling Tony Stark not to look into their high security databases.

"Jarvis, what am I looking at here?" Tony leaned forward in his rolling chair, eyes on the holographic file in front of him. Other open documents drifted lazily through the air around his desk, casting a blueish glow on the otherwise dark areas in the garage. The ceiling lights were dim, only at fifteen percent – a sign that he was focused solely on the task at hand (nearly solely, anyways).

"As I am unable to track your eyes specifically to one of the seven files potentially in your direct line of vision, sir, I'm afraid I am unable to tell," Jarvis replied smoothly. His calm British tones echoed faintly across the wide expanse of workspace and Tony snorted.

"Cute." He jabbed at the intended file a bit too hard; one of the words dislodged from its sentence and careened into a moving document. It bounced off and floated away to collide with another nearby hologram. He pointed again, this time for emphasis, as he observed the flying word ("because") with a raised eyebrow until his AI put it back where it belonged. "This one, smartass."

"SHIELD records and my own investigation suggest that it is a video game," Jarvis answered.

"A video game," Tony repeated flatly. "That is absolutely ridiculous, a video game, why would SHIELD have a video game locked up in their files – "

"Further research suggests it is a video game dealing with the apocalypse, sir," Jarvis interrupted, an arched eyebrow rising in his voice.

" – an apocalyptic, what does that mean, Call of Duty-esque? Are we talking virtual zombies, or what? Don't leave me hanging, J, I'm curious now."

Instead of answering immediately Jarvis pulled up a new window. Lines of coding scrolled up faster than it could be read. "A large part of the game coding is run by this file." The numbers froze and a small section lit up in yellow. Tony grabbed the section with two fingers and pulled to zoom.

"Squiggly line… A-T-H. what is that," he demanded, frowning. The highlighted yellow flickered minutely as he played around with the characters.

"It's pronounced, 'til death', sir."

"Til death? The fuck?" He shifted through the scattered SHIELD documents around him manually, scanning for any information they might have collected with renewed interest. Unfortunately they had very little. Tony wasn't sure what he'd been expecting: it wasn't as if SHIELD were known for their thoroughness with anything really important. "And it's an exe?"

Such as a game that involves the end of the world.

"That is correct."

"Huh." Tony's frown deepened and once again he leaned back into his chair, fingers tapping on the metal table. He'd never heard of such a file. Where did it come from? Was there anyone else who knew about it? Could he find a way to contact the creator?

Jarvis' voice interrupted his thoughts. "The file ~ATH seems to be required to run the installation of the game. In addition, its coding appears to make up a large part of that which makes the code of SBURB."

"What, SBURB, Jarvis explain that to me, how even did you pronounce that properly?" Tony didn't even wait for Jarvis to speak before moving on, "pull up the SBURB files for me and break down that damn acronym, it's impossible."

"Sir."

There were depressingly few files on the game, SBURB, for Tony to look through. Although the game was the reason for the many holographic files around hi none were actually useful. Rather, they were all reports on how nobody knew anything about the game, nor could they hope to learn any more. Apparently the coding was untouchable.

Challenge accepted, was Tony's first thought.

Oh shit what, never mind.

The endless lines of 1s and 0s before him were impossible to understand. Ever. One look gave him warning, and after a mere fifteen minutes he'd attempted to piece it all together but there was just so much. Too many variables, too many possibilities, and it seemed to go on forever. Tony was about to tear his hair out in frustration.

"What is this?!" he howled, shutting down all the open windows but one with a vicious twist of his wrist. "Tell me you got something, J."

"I have not," Jarvis answered apologetically. "There is no sign that SBURB exists, or ever existed. Nor does the title seem to be any sort of acronym."

"Oh for fuck's sake," Tony growled. He stood abruptly – the lights brightened with his movement – and closed the last window. "Make me six copies of these files, including the ~ATH download. Put them on the team's tablets."

"Sir?" Jarvis almost sounded startled.

Tony grinned, whirling around in the doorway. "If we can't take it apart, we're playing it."

"I do not recommend you do that, sir," Jarvis replied immediately, urgency sharpening his electronic tone. "The possible effects on our world-"

"All the more reason to figure it out," Tony interrupted, examining his appearance in a nearby reflective surface – this time, a table – and frowning at what he saw. Judging by the dark shadows under his eyes and the state of his van dyke he'd been in the garage a few too many hours. Now that he thought about it he felt a vague gnawing ache in his stomach area. Too much coffee, not enough food, perhaps (read: his stomach lining was dissolving and he hadn't had so much as a protein bar). "How long have I been down here?"

"Twenty-three hours," Jarvis answered promptly. "But sir – "

"Nope, you can't convince me," Tony announced, striding out the door. "I will have my way!"

"There is a strong likelihood that magic is involved," Jarvis said firmly, and Tony froze.

"Ugh, fuck, magic," he groaned. "I hate that shit."

"Perhaps you should like to reconsider – "

"Nope! I'm on to you," Tony pointed an accusing finger at the space before him, scowling without any real heat. "The only way you'll get me to change my mind now is if you have proof."

His AI had no answer. Tony grinned.

"Well, that's that. Prepare the tablets, J, we're going on an adventure!"


End file.
